


goldenseal root

by Lomonte



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, Swearing, but this will be part of a series hopefully, it FEELS like unrequited love in this fic but the gag is. it is not, lance got an owie and eugene is a mess about it, quite a lot of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonte/pseuds/Lomonte
Summary: “Hold still.”Lance was trying to, he really was, but he couldn’t stop from wincing as Flynn covered his arm in lord knows what.“Trying,” he said through gritted teeth.“Try harder,” was the curt reply.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Lance Strongbow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	goldenseal root

**Author's Note:**

> BECAUSE theres isnt NEARLY enough lance / eugene content i have decided producing as much content about them as possible is now my mission, even though i have like. four essays to turn in in a week. im fine. 
> 
> Lance and Eugene are like ~late teens, maybe 20 in this fic. It might be a bit dramatic / ooc, but the boys had a long night and theyre decidedly younger here as well. baby boys, if you will.  
> Also, yes, it physically hurt me to continuously call eugene flynn in this fic. I wish i didnt have to but yk. bad life decisions were made on eugenes part.  
> Hope you enjoy!

“Hold still.”

Lance was trying to, he really was, but he couldn’t stop from wincing as Flynn covered his arm in lord knows what.

“Trying,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Try harder,” was the curt reply.

He knew Flynn didn’t mean it that way, he was just worried for him. And tired. And probably sporting a minor concussion of his own, a fierce headache at least. Lance would keep an eye out.

They sat in silence for a moment. Lance focused his attention on the morning birds singing their song in the trees around them, and the wind ruffling the leaves. the end of summer was nearing, and with everyday being slightly colder than the last, Lance imagined the leaves would be falling in no time. He liked fall, the temperatures suited him better and the colors were a sight to behold. Flynn had always liked summer the best, flourishing in the heat and sun. Lance had spent many days watching him lay languidly in the grass under the hot sun like a lazy cat. Lance had spent that time safely in the shade, complaining to Flynn while the other went on and on about moving to hotter climates, promised lands. If he’d ever wish to go there though, Lance knew he’d follow him.

Lance winced again as Flynn dragged the side of his hand over the wound, too rough. Lance tried to meet his gaze, but Flynn had his eyes locked on his arm, stubbornly not looking up, jaw locked.

“What are you putting on my arm anyway?” Lance asked, trying to start conversation back up.

Flynn just continued massaging whatever it was he got his hands on into Lance’s skin.

Lance rolled his eyes.

“Flynn, I know you were worried, but you s-”

Flynn dug his thumb into the wound, right on a sore spot. Lance yelped (in a very manly manner).

Little motherfu-

“It’s a balm,” Flynn cut in, unfazed, before he could start cursing him out. 

He regarded his handiwork before nodding and moved to wipe his hand clean with a handkerchief.

“It cleans the wound,” he said, looking down as he was scrubbed his hand harshly, “it’s got calendula in it, and something called ‘goldenseal root’.”

Lance bit his tongue.

“Honey and olive leaves too. And some other stuff, I don’t remember,” he folded the handkerchief as he finished listing the remembered ingredients. “Cost me a fortune.”

“Where’d you get it?”

Flynn reached down into his bag, rummaging through it until he pulled out a roll of bandages.

“The market,” he answered noncommittally, and they lapsed into silence again.

The morning chorus had reached its crescendo now, and it would not be long before more people would travel through these woods. Not where they were laying low though. Flynn had a knack for finding hidden places. And that’s what they would do. Lay low for a while. They risked too much tonight, overplayed their hand. It was bound to happen sometime.

Lance turned to look at Flynn again, whose brow was now furrowed in concentration instead of grumpiness as he wrapped the fabric around Lance’s bicep. Lance couldn’t help a small smile.

“Flynn, I’m fine.”

Flynn sucked in his cheeks and flared his nostrils but kept repeating the motions, avoiding his gaze.

Lance turned and put his other hand on Flynn’s shoulder. It made him pause his movements. but he didn’t look up yet.

“Hey,” Lance said softly, looking for the words, “It’s ok-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Lance.”

It was sudden and fiery, an opposite to the cold accusatory tone of moments before. Flynn was finally looking at him and Lance couldn’t count it as a victory because he wore an angry red in his cheeks and his eyes were glittering with unshed tears.

“Don’t you dare say that when I- when I saw you get knocked down.” Frustration made his voice crack.

“I…” Lance didn’t know what to say, he hadn’t known that the ordeal had rattled his friend so.

He couldn’t look away, his were eyes locked with Flynn’s as he gasped and stumbled over his words.

“I- I couldn’t do anything but just watch- _useless,_ as that woman- she-”

Flynn was getting more and more worked up, feelings he had bottled up before now expressed freely, and Lance felt incredibly bad for it.

Last night had been ugly. They robbed the wrong people, it happens, but this time they robbed the _wrong people._

The mansion they’d broken into belonged to a very rich, and very criminal couple, the latter not noted before picking the lock of the balcony door. The homeowners had acquired their wealth through violence, and they protected it through violence. Lance had learned that first hand.

He had been cornered by the man of the house when Flynn had been upstairs doing lord knows what. Lance had tried to warn his partner, but the patriarch had charged at him like a man possessed. They must’ve fought in every room on the main floor; Lance armed with a single bronze candlestick, his opponent with some sort of dagger- saber- sword- a long sharp thing to _avoid_.

And somehow, don’t ask Lance how, he had gotten the upper hand.

He had worked the man into a corner, and he had been _this_ close to winning the fight. Sadly that was also the moment the man’s wife came running in with a loud roar, attacking him with a bat from the side. Lance had no way of holding them both off at the same time with a _candlestick_ , in a fight he was now quickly losing. Thankfully, Flynn had crept from the same hallway the woman had ran from moments later, satchel overflowing with re-stolen treasures. He’d taken the attackers by surprise, swinging the heavy bag to man’s head, knocking him to the ground with an angry cry.

It was two against one now.

Or at least, it would’ve been if Flynn hadn’t gotten a swift bat to the head almost as soon as he had made himself known. Lance had shouted his name, quickly moving to his fallen partner in crime, (who was conscious, thank god, but out of it) stupidly forgetting his assailant in his tunnel vision. The woman drew her husband’s sword-saber with a cry; an almost feral look in her eyes as she charged. Lance had gotten back up, trying to parry the swings. He could be quick and nimble when he wanted to, but he was no match against a bloodlusting woman brandishing two weapons. The bat hit him in the side, hard.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Flynn get up, albeit shakily. In the moment of distraction the woman struck down with a howl, and the blade sliced into his right arm. With a cry, he had had to let go of his trusty candlestick, moving his hand to the wound in reflex. The woman had loomed over him, staring him down like a predator.

_‘That’s what you get for messing with me and my husband, you fu-’_

She never did have the chance to finish her sentence as a loud _bang_ echoed through the room, and she slowly toppled to the side. Behind her, a terrified looking Flynn holding a cracked vase.

“She…” Flynn repeated, mirroring the expression from his memories, “she _got you,_ Lance.” He said it as if he was desperately trying to make Lance see the weight of the situation.

“From where I was I couldn’t see where she- where she hit you,” and Lance understood why Flynn had been so shaken now, so grimly protective.

“I only saw you go down and then… You didn’t even make a sound and I was- I was so scared and- and- and-” he was breathing fast now and his brows knitted together and _shit,_ that wouldn’t do, Lance felt bad enough as it was.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lance cut in, trying to make Flynn snap out of it, “I’m f-,” Flynn looked at him with a face that Lance would describe as ‘teary-eyed homicidal’ and stopped himself before making that faux pas again.

“I’m here,” he settled on. “I’ll be fine.”

Flynn took a shaky breath and looked at something beyond him.

“It was all my fault.”

Lance blinked.

“What?”

Flynn shook his head and looked at Lance’s tightly wrapped arm.

“If I hadn’t gone off alone, or if I could’ve just avoided-”

Lance huffed, he wasn’t having this.

“Flynn, I’m not going to throw you a pity party. This wasn’t your fault in any way, shape or form,” he said decidedly, hoping his tone of voice would convince him.

Apparently not.

“How can you say that when-”

“Buddy! We were in there together! I agreed with splitting up, and you saved me in that fight! You did nothing wrong,” and he meant it. They were thieves, things happened. It was no use pointing fingers.

Flynn looked him in the face again, searching it for any hidden resentment or deceit. He would find none.

“I thought…” he let out a shaky breath.

And then another one. And his face finally scrunched up into something curious as he launched himself forward, and for the first time in years Lance had an armful of blubbering Flynn against his chest.

Lance chuckled and patted Flynn’s back with his good arm.

“That’s okay, let it all out buddy.”

Flynn just tightened his hold.

“This is so stupid,” he sniffed.

“Don’t worry about it man,” Lance assured him.

“I’m only doing this so you can’t see my ugly crying face,” was the muffled reply.

Lance laughed at that, rolling his eyes even though Flynn couldn’t see it. He’d know.

“I was just so…” Flynn pressed his face into Lance’s blouse.

“I know,” Lance grimaced, “I was scared too.”

Lance _had_ been scared, for both himself and Flynn. They were lucky they got out of there the way they had- with a bag full of valuables and their heads on their shoulders. The slash on his arm a small price to pay, all in all. 

Flynn sniffed again, nodding against his chest.

“How’s the balm,” he asked after a moment.

“Stings like hell,” Lance answered honestly.

“Good,” Flynn replied, mirth returning a bit, even though it sounded a little weepy, “ ‘s what you get for scaring me like that.”

Lance snorted.

“Fair enough.”

Silence fell again as long overdue exhaustion hit them both. They were probably going to sleep the day away later. For now Lance tried not to focus on how Flynn fit perfectly against his chest, or how warm his breath was against his skin, even through the fabric of his blouse.

“I’m sorry,” Flynn repeated.

Lance shook his head, but didn’t correct him.

“I’m sorry too.”

They were slumped against each other, and stayed like that until Flynn’s breathing returned to something more even and calm, and he became heavy against his chest. Lance carefully peeled him off, mindful of his aching arm.

“Weren’t you supposed to take care of me?” he joked softly. The jostling awoke (a big word for it) Flynn who rubbed at his eyes as Lance carefully got to his feet.

“I am tak’n care of you,” Flynn slurred, “after I get s’me sleep ‘m g’nna care the shit outta you.”

“Sure thing, bud,” Lance yawned, “we’ve had a lot of head trauma for one night,” he started, trying to check up on the other, but Flynn dismissed him with a small wave of his hand.

“Jus’ headache.”

They both knew Lance would still check.

They practically fell down on the blankets Flynn had laid out the evening before, which felt like years ago now. Covered by the shade of the trees Lance settled down with a groan, carefully putting his arm down in a position as comfortable as possible. He looked up at the leaves above them, hoping the throbbing pain wouldn’t keep him up. Flynn looked like he had no such problem, already stretched out beside him with his eyes closed, content to lay a little closer than normal.

“I love you, Lance,” he murmured.

Lance turned to look at him, heart suddenly in his throat.

“I,” it refused to leave his lips for a moment, “I love you too, Flynn,” he managed, and he never meant it more, even though the name suddenly felt unwieldy.

But Flynn had already drifted off, breathing deep and body still. Lance huffed.

“Idiot.”

And sleep found him soon after that.

**Author's Note:**

> what do you think 🤔🤔 did the unnamed woman who attacked them and almost killed them effectively utilize girlpower?  
> jk please let me know what you thought or if you noticed any mistakes, and what you would like to see in the future. thank you for reading!


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